Cottle admits that Liam's leaving. The kettledrum is slowing. Saul apologizes to her desperately, as if there was something he could do. As if there's something he could still do. She thinks about babies, and God. She still projects the forest sometimes, I suppose, if she's still projecting at all, but that's not what she's seeing now.
Caprica: How small they are.
Chantara: I know. But they grow up so fast.
Caprica: May I?
Chantara, laughing: Sure... There.
Caprica: So light, so... Fragile. Shh, shh. There, there. It's okay. You're not gonna have to cry much longer.
"Cut him out. Even if it kills me. He'll live if you cut him out right now. Cylon babies must be strong, right? Hera was born early. Cut him out." Cottle tells her flatly no, not with four months left. Caprica begs to die, shaking and weeping. And Ellen leans in, with that mommy voice, tenderly naked of any power or control or manipulation; full only of love.
"Caprica, listen. I have to tell you. He loves you more than he ever loved me." Caprica weeps, terrified; how the time goes by when you are mortal, when you're a mother. "You are the mother of his son. The boy is alive, I can see his heartbeat on the monitor. And that's proof." Caprica cranes her neck, to see him on the screen. "Proof he loves you. He loves you so much it's shining out of him." It is. Out of all three of them, in the midst of horrors. "You and he can stay on Galactica. I'll go away with the others, and you can be together." Caprica weeps, unequal to the kindness. "A little family. I promise it."
Saul turns to look at Ellen, amazed by her again, smiling with love. And Liam goes, and one great race goes with him.
Cottle calls the flatline and Saul grasps, greedily, at blame and causation, begging to bargain, swearing it was him, a momentary wavering only, just a little love for his wife, surely they can't hate his love so much as this. Not when he loves them all, so much. "I take it back," he says. Pleading with Cottle. Pleading with nobody. "I'm sorry!" And maybe it's a thing, maybe it's not a thing, nobody knows. But I do know that Final Five or not, Cylon or not, bigamist or not, old or young, officer or non-com, this has all happened before. Does it matter if it's magic when you're mourning? You are still here, looking for a reason, begging to be blamed. And Liam is still gone.